Witty Title (One Shot AryaSandor)
by staroflife911
Summary: This is a one shot with Arya and Sandor during their travels. It is sex. If you want a fancy plot or story line this isn't your fic. I tried to keep with their personalities the best I could (TV wise). Have any suggestions? Let me hear them! I don't own anything. Just a few dogs and a house in the middle of nowhere. No chracters, blah blah blah. *Disclaimer, Disclaimer, Disclaimer*


Arya lie curled on her side with her back to the fire waiting for the detestable Hound to fall asleep. She waited until his breathing became deep, slow, and rhythmic… then she waited a while longer. Once she was certain he was in a deep sleep she rolled onto her back and released an exaggerated sigh. The Hound didn't stir. She flopped around noisily, purposefully exaggerating her efforts of finding a comfortable position to test her certainty. Still no stirring from The Hound.

_Very well then._ She quietly stood and placed needle through her belt. She made a makeshift torch from some spare cloth and lit it from the campfire. With her hand on needle's pommel for stability and stealth she tiptoed carefully away from the small camp. She picked her way out of their cover of trees. Just ten feet from the tree line, and about twenty-five feet from camp, a shallow stream emerged from the trees, flowed through a small clearing, and re-entered the woods.

She drove her torch into the soft, grass covered earth near the stream. She knelt and thrust her hands into the cold clear water, scrubbing them before scrubbing her face. The night was chilly, though not near as cold as Winterfell had been. She had grown somewhat accustomed to the warm weather and even warmer baths in Kings Landing, but she had always hated a bath no matter how warm or cold.

She hated the chill that set into your bones after emerging from the water. She hated the fight of trying to get clothes back over damp skin. Most of all the hated the overly pungent scented oils that were generously poured into the baths at the Red Keep. At least there were no whorish oils out here in the woods. She didn't even want to take this bath, but she knew she needed to clean up. She had become much more aware of her own smell in the past few weeks, after her first moon bleed had come and gone.

She hadn't had the chance to wash at all. She felt a mess still, although she had done her best to keep from ruining her pants by layering leaves in her britches. She finally managed to tear a few strips of cloth from her tunic while The Hound way hunting rabbits one evening. She didn't need his silent and disdainful gaze watching her. She didn't want to give him any clues that she had reached womanhood. She felt vulnerable, as if every man could look at her and tell that she had her moon bleed. Especially the bloody Hound. Arya thought if she could smell it on herself, then the damn Hound could smell it.

_If he finds out he will probably sell me to a fucking whore house. It would be much easier on him! No more long travels trying to track down whatever family I have left that hasn't been murdered!_

Tears welled in her eyes. She was frustrated and unsure. Her mother and Septa Mordane had taught both her and Sansa about a woman's bleeding. She knew what it meant, why it happened, and that it was normal. They never taught her how to keep from leaving blood stains on your saddle as your captor traipsed you through the woods with aggressive promises of safety, protection, and deliverance.

She stifled an angry grunt and shoved aside her self-pity. She preferred not to think of her family, and began haphazardly stripping her clothes off and dropping them on the bank. She shivered once naked and began washing her clothes in the stream. She rinsed her tunic a few times and hung it from a nearby small sapling. Then she found two flat rocks and began working at the stains in her small clothes and britches. She rubbed the stained cloth together, then began to crush the fabric between the two rocks glancing back at the tree line behind her with each loud click she made. Finally satisfied with the condition of her small clothes, she wasn't very picky about them anyway, she turned her attention to her britches. There was nothing visible on the exterior of her britches, so she slacked on her effort with those. She hung the rest of her clothes on the sapling and returned to the stream. She eased into the water to knee depth. Even in the dim torch light she could still see the pink stains on her inner thighs where her quick attempts at washing had left smears.

She sat in the shallow water and scrubbed between her legs and her inner thighs, removing the dried blood. Then she turned her attention to her grimy arms and washed her face more thoroughly. She had not planned on washing her hair, but she was enjoying the gentle flow of the water across her nakedness. After dipping her head in the stream and working her fingers through its short length, she sat cross legged in the stream gazing at the small patch of stars above her. A light breeze passed through the clearing, so light it would have been nearly discernable, but her naked wet skin responded. Her nipples tightened and her skin prickled. She cupped each of her small breasts in each hand.

She found the sensation oddly delightful, a delight she had never truly noticed before. She began to toy with her nipples, working them between her fingers with the gentlest of pressures. Just two weeks before they had been sore to touch, but now she enjoyed the attention. After a few more moments she began to feel an ache between her legs. She uncrossed her legs and pressed her thighs together, but the sensation only became stronger.

_Is this part of womanhood? Is this normal? Septa nor mother never mentioned sensations such as this._

She heaved a sigh and retreated to the bank. Her clothes on the sapling were still not dry. She collapsed onto her back in the soft dewy grass. Her ache was still there. She bent her knees and spread her legs. She placed a hand between her legs and cupped herself. She found she enjoyed the pressure here even more than she had on her breast. For the first time in her life she began to explore herself. She was warm there, and she felt her wetness as well. Arya was beginning to things she overheard as a child when listening to men talk without their knowing she was near.

She began to spread the wetness and found an area that was most pleasing to her, and focused her attention there. She varied her pressure and motion and before long she could feel her wetness increasing. She closed her eyes and lost herself in her other senses. The wind shifted and she could smell the wood smoke from the campfire. The scent brought the Hound to mind.

She suddenly stopped her ministrations, aghast at the sudden thought of the despicable man. She had smelled wood smoke her entire life, but the smell of it reminded her of the hateful man with the burned face. He was irritable, violent, and unmerciful. He had killed the butcher's boy. He rode him down like and animal.

Yet, Arya had always preferred things in life that were on the rough side. She was never one to find appeal in conventional beauty. She rebels against the expected. Was he not the unexpexted? Why should she be so surprised that she would grow to form these… these… fascinations, yes… that's a good word. She had formed fascinations with the man.

He smelled of wood smoke. Wood smoke, leather, horse, sweat, occasionally blood. There was another smell there too, or combination of other smells. Arya wasn't sure. She could never pinpoint it. There was a certain sweetness to his smell that couldn't really be called sweetness. It reminded her of a combination of the cloves and fennels in the kitchens, but it still wasn't that either. He smelled like freedom, but yet it wasn't really freedom. She was free of all the expected obligations of a lady, yet she was his captive as well.

She returned to her ministrations with the thought that he would actually never know about the fascination and what went on in her own head. No one could learn that without her saying, and she would never say. She remembered his strong hands and how he effortlessly hoisted her onto his horse. She remembered the bulk of his shoulders when he carried her out of the courtyard at the Frey wedding. Now she wished he had not had his armor on then, so she could remember the feel of his strong back under her hands as she fought to see what was happening to her family. She realized he had been protective of her, to a certain extent. He would only allow harm to come to her if he was the one doing the harm. What harm had he brought her though? He wanted her alive because people don't pay ransoms for the dead, but he could have easily raped her, beat her, tied her up, gagged her… He could have done many worse things to her than death. He did smack her pretty hard though.

"Hound!" She cried just as her body tensed and she increased her pressure. Her jaw clenched, her head bent forward, and her toes began to curl. Just when she thought she would tear a muscle her body released with several jerks and a gasp. Warm fluids gushed from her and down between the cheeks of her ass. She quickly jerked her hand away. She had become much more sensitive and worried she would have a fit if she kept going. She thought she had wet herself. She wiped herself with her hand and tentatively smelled the fluid, realizing with a start that it did not smell like urine.

She collapsed back onto the grass with a sigh and began to roll to her knees to head to the stream for another washing when a gruff voice froze her in her tracks.

"What are you doin' out here all by yourself little wolf-bitch?"

S

S

S

Sandor heard all the noise the girls was making across the fire. He wished the little cunt would shut the fuck up. He was tired of hearing her little mouth running incessantly, and assumed she wanted to interrogate him about people he killed or some other shit. He continued to feign sleep for a while after he heard her noisily tramping through the woods and splashing in the stream. He knew she would want a bath, but he figured she would try to beat him to the rise at first light. He didn't think she would bathe in the middle of the fucking night. He could smell her first blood a few weeks ago. He knew she had become a woman, and that made him that much more nervous with her.

Sandor had always been a more disciplined man, but it had been months since he had been with a woman proper. The opportunity for a quick wank didn't arise much either with the little wolf-bitch following him around. He would have to set her to a task of building the fire while he hunted just to get some damn privacy. She wasn't even far most times when he was taking a damn shit.

But he was growing more aware of the feel of her against him while the rode Stranger. He was so damn horny some days that just the tickle of her hair on his cheek would drain his blood to his britches. Then there was her breasts bumping against the inside of his arm as he held the reins.

Once he tried to make the excuse that he had to take a piss to dismount, disappear into the woods a few paces and try to jerk one out. Half way through the little wolf-bitch started asking what was taking him so damn long. _You wouldn't be complaining if I were to do it proper with you, _he had thought.

His restraint, despite her obvious unwillingness, was rooted in the fact that he told himself she was a child. Now, there was no telling himself that. In any man's or woman's eyes she would be considered a woman now. Luckily they had procured a horse for her. He had initially missed them riding double, but it had made his life much easier in the long run.

He rolled over and face the fire, staring into the woods where she had departed. He listened carefully over the crickets and crackling of the fire for splashing water, the brush of grass, anything that would indicate she was still nearby. Nothing. He heard nothing. His heart leapt with a sudden rush of adrenaline and the sudden fear of losing the girl.

He grabbed his sword and headed to the woods, hesitating for a moment to consider his armor. He decided to forego his armor and quietly worked his way through the woods and into the clearing. His eyes quickly found her sprawled on her back in the grass pleasuring herself.

Once his shock subsided, spite and anger quickly took his place. The little whore was probably thinking about her precious Gendry for fucks sake. He turned to head back to the woods when the stirring of his cock changed his mind. Damn it all. He could use this to his advantage. He quietly set his sword on the ground and began unlacing his trousers. He could at least get a good wank out of it.

He was about to free his hardening cock when he heard her cry "Hound!" He froze, thinking she had spotted him standing at the wood line leering at her like some lecher. She wasn't looking at him though. She wasn't looking at anything. She had cried his name in her private moment of passion, not as an accusation to his invasion of her privacy. His cock throbbed. He watched her bring her hand to her face, unsure if she was tasting herself or not. It was took much. He had to have her. He wouldn't force himself on her. But she was drunk with lust, and he could try his chances at taking advantage of that.

He crept quickly and quietly through the clearing and approached her from behind.

"What are you doin' out here all by yourself little wolf-bitch?"

Fear and embarrassment flashed briefly across her face when she spun around to face him. Realizing her nakedness, her arms crossed her chest to cover her little pert breasts with the little pink nipples.

"You getting a good wank are ya?"

"You creepy fucking lecher! How dare you?"

"Aw, come on now wolf-bitch. I came to take a piss and you're out here with all your bits displayed for the world!"

"The world? What world?" Arya cried angrily, freeing an arm to indicate the small clearing around them.

Sandor brushed passed the girl and snatched up her pitiful little torch and grabbed her clothes form the sapling.

"These'll never dry out hanging out here in the chill. Best get them by the fire then." He headed back to the wood line, and disappeared with Arya screaming insults and demanding he bring her clothes back. He allowed himself a quick smile.

He had strung a stick through her clothes and propped it on two other stick he had shoved in the ground near the fire before returning to his sad excuse for his bedding. He sat as cross legged as his thick legs and old beaten bones would allow him, waiting patiently for her return. After gaining her courage she finally made her way back through the woods and began stomping her feet and screaming at him defiantly. She made her way to her clothes, but she had to come through him first.

As she tried to dodge past him, he reached for her. He grabbed her around her waist and pulled her into his lap. She loudly protested and beat her fists against whatever parts of him she could reach.

"I'm not going to take anything you don't want me to have wolf-bitch, but you could at least let me plead my offer."

She stopped and stared at him in confusion. He turned her sideways on his lap and placed a kiss gently on her mouth. He didn't want to scare the poor thing more than he had, but his restraint was near the end of its rope. What he was doing was out of line, and he knew it. He would not rape her, but he would try his best to encourage her. She protested a few more seconds and became still. He placed a hand over her pert little breast and rolled her nipple between his fingers. She let out a soft whimper and began to squirm.

"Ah, see? You like it don't you little wolf-bitch? I saw what you did to yourself. Was it your first time? You ever come before?"

She stared at him in silence. She was too afraid to speak. She was in awe of what was happening, and worried it would all be a dream. She would wake up to find him standing over her bitching about her moaning in her sleep.

"So, that's a yes, yes, no? Hmm, you'll be amazed at what a man can truly do to ya then. Just give me the chance to show ya. You agree?"

She continued to stare.

"I need an answer little girl. You say 'no' and I'll put ya in my tunic while your clothes dry for the night. Say yes… and well, I'll just show ya all that."

She hesitated. She was no lady. She would never be a lady. Her maidenhead wasn't important like Sansa's. No one would miss it. Now she was enveloped in the musculature and scent of the hound and knew she couldn't say no even if she had wanted. She nodded her head.

A deep growl erupted from his chest that Arya felt deep into her bones. Her body responded the return of the ache and more wet. Sandor placed a hand on the back of her head and brought his lips to hers once more. He took his time, and kissed her softly at first. When she became bolder and placed a hand in his hair and one on his chest he kissed her more deeply and urgently. He broke the kiss and took her nipple into his mouth. She gasped in shock at the pleasure his warm wet mouth brought to her breast.

He groaned lightly, releasing her from his mouth but not moving away from her breast. "You like that well enough… and that's just the beginning little wolf-bitch."

She closed her eyes and enjoyed every sensation: his hot breath on her wet breast, the feel of his beard brushing against her skin, his strong arm behind her back, his smell, the tickle of his long hair on her face. She enjoyed all of it.

He continued his attention to her breasts and slid his hand to the wetness between her legs. He explored her carefully. His massaged at her clit with his thumb and gently slid his middle finger into her center. She tensed as his large finger stretched her.

"It will be alright if we take it slow, but it will be uncomfortable at first little wolf." He murmured in her ear and brushed kisses along her neck and shoulder. He began moving his finger inside her and the sensation soon became pleasurable. She clawed at his back and pulled at his hair, bucking her hips and pressing against his hand. He breathing became ragged and he felt her body tense. He removed his hand, and she whimpered in disappointment at the sudden loss of sensation. Her eyes glared at him accusingly.

"Don't look at me like that little wolf. I've done this a few times more than you."

He turned her to face him and draped her knees over his shoulders, placing her center right near his face.

"What are you doing?" She cried out with confusion and embarrassment.

"What did I just tell you? Just trust me for once in your damn life." He wrapped an arm around her waist and cupped a large hand on her ass to hold her in place before tentatively giving her a lick. He kept his eyes on her face to watch her reaction as he repeated this several times.

This wasn't as enjoyable to Arya as the previous activity, but maybe it was something that brought pleasure to the man. Arya couldn't say. She had overhead men referencing activities like this before. His actions weren't uncomfortable, they just weren't as much fun. At least that's what Arya though until he took her clit into his mouth and began to suck on her rhythmically. A jolt of pleasure shot through her and she cried out with surprise. It was all she could do to not kick. He chuckled with her still in his mouth, and she gasped again. Just as she began to tense again he stopped and placed kisses inside her thighs and licked her cum from her ass to her clit.

He grabbed her by the arms and repositioned again. This time he lay her carefully on her back on the ground before he stood. His trousers were still unlaced, so he kicked off his boots and pulled his tunic over his head. Arya gasped at the sight of him. He was solid muscle, very broad and thick, and riddled with scars. There was more scar on him than untouched skin. She got to her knees and reached for some of the scars on his abdomen, running her fingers across them gently in awe wondering what type of weapon and who the wielder was that caused each scar.

"They're just scars little wolf. Nothing special, although I know hideous."

"They're not hideous. They are wonderful!" Arya protested.

Sandor gave her a look of consternation. "Right. Even the whores I pay don't tell me those lies."

Arya was forming a protest when he jerked his trousers off He stood before her now fully naked and all man. She had never seen a hard cock before, and certainly had not seen many cocks. She seemed quite small in comparison to the place he intended to put that thing.

"Don't worry. It'll fit." He assured nonchalantly as if he had read her mind.

"What… what do I do now?" Arya asked, suddenly timid again.

"Just lie back. I'll do all the work. I prefer it that way anyway."

Arya obeyed and lay back propped on her elbows. He kneeled at her feet, guided her legs apart, and pulled until her lower back was against his knees and her ass propped against his thighs. He massaged her clit some more and inserted a finger again. She kept her eyes open this time and watched his face. He bit his lower lip as he focused on her core, and when he inserted another finger he glanced at her face to watch her reaction. She made a sharp intake and tensed once more.

"This will be easier if you relax little wolf. I know that's probably easier said than done. Why don't you talk? I know how much you love that." He said with a little sarcasm.

"Now doesn't seem like the most appropriate time to talk," She scoffed playfully.

"Oh, but now is the most important time for a man and woman to talk…" He drifted off, focusing on his task once more.

"Ok…" she breathed as he began working his fingers inside her again and the pleasure started to return "what would you have me talk about?"

"Tell me what you like about what we are doing. Tell me how it makes you feel."

He slipped another finger inside her, and she tensed again. _Three fingers! He has three of his monstrous fingers in me right now!_ "Why don't you just shove your whole fucking fist in there while you are at it Hound!" She cried out.

He leaned down and grabbed her breast with his other hand "Don't… tempt… me…" He growled. A surge of wetness gushed between his fingers and onto his hand. He placed his thumb back on her clit. "Ahh… you like it when I'm rough with you little wolf?"

Arya nodded.

"What?" He placed his teeth on her inner thigh and applied some light pressure "I can't hear you wolf!" he mumbled into her thigh.

She gushed again and cried out "Yes!"

A deep rumble escaped his chest again and he buried his fingers a little deeper, scraping his teeth across her thigh. She cried out with both pleasure and pain. He could take it no longer. He raised his hips to her, guided himself to her core, and with one great thrust pushed into her to the hilt breaking her maidenhead.

She screamed and squirmed with pain clawing at his shoulders. He grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head, taking her nipple into his mouth again. When he felt her relax around his cock he slowly began to move inside her.

She thought she would tear in two she was stretched so much. She burned, but she took deep breaths and tried to remember what he had said about relaxing. She emptied her mind and focused only on the pleasure she felt, ignoring the pain. Soon it was all pleasure and she noticed the deep ache she had been feeling all night was subsiding. This is what she had been aching for. She had wanted to be filled and hadn't realized. She started to move against his hips as slowly and methodically as he was moving against her, matching him thrust for thrust. She gripped the hair at the nape of his neck tightly, like she would a horse bareback.

The pressure spurred him and he lost himself in her warm, wet, tight core. His thrusts grew deeper and faster. His stones clapped against her ass, and she buried her teeth into his shoulder. His hand found her hair and he pulled her head back at an angle. She cried out and he felt her gripping around him and her wetness increase.

"You do like it rough, little wolf-bitch." He growled into her ear and buried his teeth into her shoulder. She let out a cry and dug her nails into his back as she shook beneath him. She finally went slack, and he stopped his thrusts. He kissed her neck and face.

"Wow." She breathed. "That was… stunning." She caressed his back with her hands and felt him shiver.

"We aren't done yet, wolf-bitch."

He pulled out of her and leaned back against his pack. He pulled her onto his lap once more and wrapped her legs around his waist. He guided himself into her once more and began rocking his hips. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, and rested her head on his upper chest. She toyed with his hair and tugged at his ear lobe, slowly rocking with him. He kissed her head and ran his hands over her ass and along her back gently raking his nails over her. She placed her palm over the left side of his face, and studied the scar on his right. They explored each other slowly for some time. He brought her face to his and kissed her. She sighed and rested her head on his chest once more.

Sandor noticed her content relaxation. _Hmph. The bitch is getting bored._

He flipped her flat of her back and climbed over her again. "You will come or me again woolf-bitch." He growled while plowing into her.

Her body responded to the sudden change in pace. He threw her legs over his shoulder and grabbed her wrists with his rough hands, pulling her against him with each of his thrusts. He raked his teeth across her calf. He felt her growing wet and begin clamping around him again. He released one wrist and began massaging her clit. She moaned loudly as her body began tensing. She was tightly clenching her jaw and thrashing her head to the side, the muscles of her neck taught and straining. He released her wrist and leaned over her with an elbow on either side of her and his hands splayed on the back of her shoulders. He scraped his teeth across her neck heavily enough for her to feel a little pain without leaving a mark.

Arya was on the brink. His chest hair tickled her breasts and his smell enveloped her. She wrapped her legs around him, pulled the hair at the nape of his neck and dug her nails into his back. When she sunk her teeth into his shoulder her body exploded with pleasure. She twitched almost violently beneath him.

He felt his stones growing taught as her wetness gushed around him. When she cried his name out, he released himself with a guttural groan. He posed over her for several moments, panting while his body succumbed to the pleasure and slack relaxation.

He buried his face in her hair to hide his watery eyes and suppress the sobs welling inside him. He had defiled her. He had taken her maidenhood. Honor had never been a characteristic he had been concerned with before, but now he felt utterly dishonorable for what he had done. To make matters worse he had spilled his seed inside her. Now the little wolf was contentedly running her hands lightly up and down his back.

He couldn't bear to pull away from her. He couldn't bear to look into her face. He couldn't lay here on top of her the rest of his life anymore either. When thought of his brother, and anger welled inside him, washing away the shame he felt. He abruptly stood and began redressing. He pulled on his trousers, and only remembered his promise to Arya about wearing his tunic for the night after he had pulled it over his head. He glanced at her naked form still lying on the ground. He could see discomfort and embarrassment in her face when she awkwardly glanced away from his gaze and covered her chest. He pulled the tunic off and tossed it to her before stalking into the woods to take a piss.


End file.
